Broken, unspoken
not mending round the bending
over backwards turns…
I close my self-harmed blind eyes.
It’s my way to feel alive.
I stared at you, too
with the other lights in my
starry-eyed skyline…
My carmine, acid-burned tips
are thrilled to death to touch you.
But they’d stop me cold,
I tremble imagining
true human contact…
Long-distance indifference
is all I’m familiar with.
I over-fatigue
myself with affined-distance
contacts. A cold space
makes me warm. I feel a blade
which tickles my blepharons.
Vulnerable codes
of casual ciphers, cracked
Flirts, being known hurts…
Now I’ve heard a fucking chord…
Hallelujah… hell, I hack!
Lady Scissorhands,
with paper white skin, I know.
I’m Inside-out Man….
Blunt edges give much more fun
with unpicking blue and red.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2015